Rule of Three
by liondancer17
Summary: After the death of Superman, the world finds itself trying to cope with the loss over three years later. Unfortunately, it's just the beginning. The multiverse begins to collapse in upon itself, planes of existence meld into one, and old enemies use Earth as their playground once more. In the center of it, something is very, very wrong with the remaining Trinity...
1. Chapter 1

**Story Summary: **After the death of Superman—a true death, one not even constant sun will bring him back from—the world finds itself trying to cope with the loss over three years later. Unfortunately, it's just the beginning. The multiverse begins to collapse in upon itself, planes of existence meld into one, and old enemies use Earth as their playground once more. In the center of it all, the League is struggling to hold its ground, but there's something _wrong _with it all, something that's threatening to consume not only the League, but the multiverse in its entirety.

**Warnings: **Character death, violence, language.

**Universe: **Earth-2, post-_B__lackest Night_, canon pairings. A few references to the _Unlimited_ series, if you look.

**Author's Note: **So this has been something on my mind for a few weeks. After reading _Trinity, _I really fell in love with the friendship of Diana, Clark, and Bruce. Not only that, but I've always been a big fan of big, multiverse crossovers, and I've always wanted a few of my favorite villains to come back. I hope to make this original, and I hope to make this well. Thank you for your time.

**Disclaimer: **All properties belong to their respective owners. This is purely a work of free entertainment.

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><p><strong> Chapter 1: The Seven Stages of Grief<strong>

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><p>To say that Bruce Wayne was emotionally stunted is the understatement of the century.<p>

Oh, anyone could tell you that he was obviously very, very unwell. Normal people don't dress in leather and Kevlar bodysuits, with pointed ears on top, and an array of _bat-themed _weapons. Normal people don't train preteens on how to fight and kill, before sending them out with spandex and boomerangs to go fight the underbelly of the world. Normal people don't develop guilt complexes that would make a _saint _roll their eyes at the bleeding-heart antics of Mr. Wayne.

Even so, this was quite above and beyond the normal emotional-repression that plagued the life of Bruce Wayne.

When his soldier, his beloved son, died in his arms, Bruce Wayne was stuck in depression for _years. _Even while taking in Tim Drake, even while working alongside his family, he was never quite the same after the death of Jason Todd. If anything, the boy's death defined him even more than his parents'.

For hours at a time, he'd stare at the glass case; never crying, of course. Batman never cried. But he'd clearly be lost somewhere, where not even Alfred could bring him back out.

Bruce Wayne, though a logical man, could never reason through his own emotions. He could never bring himself to finally accept the tragedies in his life, no matter how hard he would try to logically do so. Barbara losing her ability to walk was his fault. Dick's parents dying was his fault. Jason's death, Jason's descent into villainhood, his own parents' death...it was always his fault, and it always drove him to push himself harder than before, while burying his feelings where nobody could ever drag them out.

But this time, it was different.

On the surface level, of course, nothing had changed. He still drove himself twice as hard, he still lost sleep, he still refused all attempts to talk about how he was dealing with it. He still isolated himself as he always did, and still obsessively went over every way he could have prevented it, only burying himself in grief all the more. The rest of the Batclan was all used to this, and expected him to simply move on to anger, using it to drive himself as he always did, before descending into grief, only for_ Dick_ and Diana to help bring him back out.

It happened the last time, after all.

But not this time.

For hours, he'd stare at his computer screen, working on new cases, while obsessively rubbing his thumb over the tiny piece of Superman's cape he'd ripped out of the coffin, after spotting it sticking out.

That was the only sign he gave that he even acknowledged the death of his closest friend.

When asked he would vehemently deny anything. Superman was alive, he'd said. He was just healing, or sleeping. Just like last time. He would come back soon, he was too stubborn, and never gave up on anything. He knew Superman best, and he knew that the alien would never die, because he was too overpowered to a _ridiculous extreme_, and if anyone would kill Superman, it would be Batman or Wonder Woman, because Superman _wouldn't let_ anyone else stop him. Except for Lois, but she was a special case, and didn't even need weapons for _that. _He wouldn't let Luthor kill him like that. He never gave up on stopping the psychopath. _Superman wasn't dead. Just healing. _

Even when two years passed, Batman still kept Superman's channel open on the communicator, long after the rest had closed it. Aquaman had said that they needed to shut it off, but Batman _point-blank refused, _and threatened to cut the funding of Wayne Enterprises if they did.

And so, the channel was still there, connected to the communicator Bruce had slipped into the coffin just moments before it was lowered into the grave.

It was denial. Everyone knew it. Bruce was never particularly good with loss, but this was the worst case yet. If Jason came back, then Superman obviously would. Bruce came back, and Barry came back, and even _Captain Boomerang _came back, so obviously the one who _deserved it the most_ would too.

But he never did. Another year passed, and even those who, like the Dark Knight, believed that he would rise a third time, lost hope.

Even so, the world kept turning, just as it did before.

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><p>Lois Lane was lost.<p>

Everyone who knew her knew about how deeply she was connected with both the Man of Steel, and the boy from Kansas.

Even Perry White, who didn't believe in things like _true love _or _soulmates _knew that there was always something _different _about Lois and Clark. Even standing in the same room together brought something _different _into the air. The two of them had worked for over ten years together, had been through the end of the world _three times _together, and from the moment the farmboy first set eyes on the Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter, he had fallen head over heels-literally-in love.

Maybe it was the way he looked at her. As if he wasn't even worthy of being in the same room as her, or the way he honestly felt that he wasn't worthy of her time. He'd said before that it wasn't _her _working to be worthy of _him, _but that _he _had to work to be worthy of even her _time. _

So when he died, Lois Lane was lost. She didn't fall into a catatonic state, or mourn her lost love. She didn't become an empty shell, nor did she sink into denial. After a few weeks of mourning, she returned to her work, throwing herself in it like she always had before.

But a tiny part of her was gone. That spark in her eyes, the confident smile, the firecracker spirit that was always _burning _inside of her. Lois was broken, though she tried to move on, tried to accept it.

And tried to keep herself well, despite the insistence that it wasn't affecting her like the rest insisted it was. She denied it, suppressed herself, using everything and anything to keep her mind off of the innocent farmboy who just wanted to make people happy.

She insisted that he wasn't coming back. That he was gone, and that she way okay with it. She insisted that she was stronger than everyone else, that she would be okay, that she wasn't going to let it hold her back.

As much as she honestly tried, she couldn't keep herself from staring at their wedding ring for hours at a time.

And the world would fade to black, for hours, before she awoke the next day.

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><p>Diana was proud to say that she was the most emotionally stable of her friends, despite what they both had to say. She didn't have a guilt-complex like them both, nor self-worth issues like Kal, or emotional issues like Bruce. She was a woman who was very in-tune with herself, her worth, her feelings, and her goals. She really was a <em>woman of wonder, <em>as she had been proclaimed years ago.

And yet, she was angry.

She was angry at the world for not noticing, not trying to help. She was angry at Bruce for not just manning up and accepting that his friend was dead. She was angry at Lois for not working through her grief. But most of all, she was angry at Luthor for not getting the justice he oh-so righteously _deserved._

On more than one occasion, she had wanted to run her blade through him, or strangle him with her lasso while _slowly dragging _admissions of guilt out of him. She wanted to punch a hole straight through his head, wanted to tie him to her horses and _tear _him apart, or wanted to lock him away and let him _starve. _

Diana was a very maternal woman, after all. More than that, she was _royalty. _She was protective of those whom she deemed her people, and would rain down the fury of the _Gods _on anyone who hurt her people, even more so for her _family. _Ares _himself_ couldn't bring the wrath of the Amazon Princess that she wanted to bring, not after how much that man had hurt the _children _who looked up to Kal, the _hope _that he brought, and most of all, he had _dared _to hurt a man that she had long considered her brother, one of the first men who had proven himself _worthy_ of being accepted among her sisters as an _equal_, someone who had proven to Diana again and again that there were those who were worthy of being a part of Themyscira,_ a part of her people, _even if they were outsiders to her world.

But she held herself back, out of respect for those who had long past into the Elysian Fields, as she was sure he had done. And as one of the few of Man's World that had proven himself worthy, he had been honored by the Amazons as a true member of one of their warriors, a Themysciran worthy of the blessings of their princess, worthy of being accepted as the first and only brother of the Amazons' Sisters.

It was only this honor that kept her from breaking the code. And this honor that kept her focused on her mission of protecting _her _people, as she always had.

And, as she ran her sword through one of the demons of the Underworld, the punished soul that Hades had warned her had broken free, she wondered how long this forced peace would last.

Wiping the blood off of her cheek, and watching blankly as the emerald fires died, she wondered if she could keep it up long enough at all.

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><p><strong>AN: **

This is a bit shorter than most. I usually go for 3000 to 4000, but as an introduction, it will be the shortest of this series.

Please give me feedback, I would really appreciate it.

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><p><em>"That is my cape! You're a dog! Give it back! It doesn't even fit!"<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Story Summary: **After the death of Superman—a true death, one not even constant sun will bring him back from—the world finds itself trying to cope with the loss over three years later. Unfortunately, it's just the beginning. The multiverse begins to collapse in upon itself, planes of existence meld into one, and old enemies use Earth as their playground once more. In the center of it all, the League is struggling to hold its ground, but there's something _wrong _with it all, something that's threatening to consume not only the League, but the multiverse in its entirety.

**Warnings: **Character death, violence, language.

**Universe: **Earth-2, post-_B__lackest Night_, canon pairings. A few references to the _Unlimited_ series, if you look.

**Author's Note: **And now we come to chapter two. I'm so sorry for the delay. This is honestly a big project for me, and with the upcoming graduation and exams, I've been very busy. I hope you don't mind. Thank you for your time.

**Disclaimer: **All properties belong to their respective owners. This is purely a work of free entertainment.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: The Theory of Relativity<strong>

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><p>It wasn't as if Bruce Wayne didn't have a good childhood when he was younger.<p>

That was the part that really killed him, to be honest. That he used to be such a naïve little boy, with his only worry being that his parents worked a lot, and didn't have much time to pay attention to him. Looking back on it, he would say to others that he was ashamed of how he was as a child.

But honestly, he couldn't bring himself to be.

How could he be? He was a _boy. _Back then, sharing the same last name with John Wayne was the coolest thing he could ever imagine. Back then, Gotham was a paradise, and the only thing he had to be scared of where his mother's brussel sprouts. He was a _child. _Bruce, no matter how much others would mock him, did not consider his parents' murder the worst part of his life.

The worst part was losing _innocence._

Everything was violently revealed to him in that one second. His eyelids were ripped off, and the curtain was drawn back. There were people who wanted to hurt him. There were people who didn't _care. _At once, he wasn't just a boy with rich parents and a business to one day care about. He was the last Wayne, he was thrust into the life of a man.

But he was just a _child._

And honestly, he still was.

Maybe that, though, was the true tragedy. The fact that, despite it all, he still pushed himself to the physical limit to protect the _other children _from losing their innocence. That the only children he took in where broken ones like himself. That he still clung to the League, despite wanting to distance himself from the other _idiotic _heroes.

His closest friends were living representatives of _Truth and Hope. _His first protégée was a boy from the _carnival. _And he drove a _modded-up car themed like a bat _for God's sake. It wasn't just the part where he took himself far too seriously that led people to the idea that, under all of the scars, Bruce Wayne was still just a child who was desperately fighting to be happy.

Slowly, though, that child was starting to die.

It wasn't as if Bruce Wayne hadn't gone through serious periods of depression before, of course. But he had never quite become so _unstable _before-to the point where the tiniest thing could send him spiraling downward once more.

Dick theorized it to be a combination of it all. Alfred theorized it to be the breaking point, after years of putting to much on himself.

Diana hadn't said anything at all. Nor did she care to, in the slightest.

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><p>"This shouldn't be happening." Bruce said simply, eyes narrowed at the computer screen. His jaw was clenched tight, whited-out lenses narrowed to near slits as his claw-tipped gloves curled into fists.<p>

"I'm sorry, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, pausing from where he had stopped to bring down the files that his employer had requested.

Bruce's lip simply curled in response, and he continued typing, only drawing a sigh from Alfred.

"Master Bruce, as much as I'd like to believe we've known each other long enough to communicate without words, it simply isn't the case. I'm going to need more than your incessant scowling to come to whatever conclusion you've drawn."

"_Get over here."_

Alfred's eyebrow twitched, but that was the only sign of irritation he bothered to give. Setting down the box of papers, he walked over, coming to a stop behind the unhealthily-lit shadow of the Batman.

"Look."

"As always, your conversational skills are absolutely dazzling, Master Bruce." Alfred remarked, before drawing his reading glasses out of his pocket, and taking a glance at the screen.

"Those are the feedback images of a satellite_. _Have you hacked into NASA again? _Where you looking for-_"

"Doesn't matter. Look."

Alfred frowned, studying the satellite images for a moment. Some of Jupiter's moons, a few images of galaxies and nebulas, and the sun, before a few images of it captured by a telescope. "I don't see anything wrong, sir. It's just the sun. You're not going to find-"

"No,_ look_."

With a few keystrokes, Alfred found himself looking at a an image of a solar eclipse. "I still don't see the problem, Master Bruce."

"They look the same." Bruce snapped, a muscle in his jaw clenching after he spoke. "That isn't physically possible. The Theory of Relativity _makes _it impossible! The gravity of the moon would distort the pull of the star's lights! It's been _proven! _This is _impossible!_"

"Master Bruce, I'm positive that this is merely a camera trick, or a mistake." Alfred said, frowning a little. "It's fine, I'm sure. Please, don't worry yourself over nothing."

"You don't _understand._" Bruce snarled, snapping his head around to glare at his caretaker, and managing to get quite a lackluster response from the Brit. "These are _raw images! _And not even _NASA _can explain it!"

The Bat brought his fist down on the dashboard, making the computer shake under the force.

"Am I the _only one _who remembers the crisis? Am I the _only one _who is looking out for the safety of _everyone? _Am I the only one who _cares?" _Gradually, the Bat's voice rose in volume, until he was standing, up towering over the Brit and nearly shouting at him.

In response, Alfred merely frowned, and raised a hand to pat the Batman's head like a small child.

"You're looking for it, Master Bruce. That's the problem. You're _looking _for a fight, and you won't let yourself admit it. You need to take a breath, and _accept-"_

_"__Don't patronize me!" _Bruce snapped, spinning his head around so fast that Alfred felt a brief stab of panic for his charge. "This is not about _that! _This is about _the universe!"_

The Bat got to his feet, fists clenched tightly as he began to pace, making Alfred have to take a few steps back, and give the Bat more room.

"Alfred, _people have been coming back to life! _Heroes have been pulled down to _hell! _We need to _be prepared for this! _The dead came back to **_life, dammit! _**We need to _watch out for this kind of thing!" _

Alfred blinked, stumbling back and blinking when he found himself face-to-face with his charge, staring right into whited-out eyes.

_"Why don't you care?"_

Alfred set his jaw, pulling himself upright, making his voice hard as he spoke, as he would when the Bat was a small child.

"Because, Master Bruce, you have been inventing problems left and right to make excuses so you would not leave the cave. Master Timothy has been concerned for you! Master Richard has had to consider taking up the Batman identity again because of you! Even Master Jason has asked about you through Master Timothy! You need to let it go, and bring yourself out of this-"

_"No."_

"Master Bruce-"

"_Get out."_ Bruce snarled, immediately turning back to his work. "You're not telling me anything I haven't heard before."

"Master Bru-"

**_"__Get out!" _**

Alfred sighed, though he didn't obey.

Bruce didn't ask again.

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><p>When Billy Batson was ten years old, he was taught two phrases that changed his life.<p>

_Be Good, and Good Will Follow._

_Shazam._

When he was twelve, he learned what it was like to lose his entire means of living.

When he became the Wizard, he learned what it was like to be the keeper of the World.

When he lost Mary, he shut his heart away.

_Be Good, and Good Will Follow._

_Yeah, right._

Billy curled into himself, staring out at the rain, and waited.

"_Shazam_." he whispered.

The Wizard was angry, and took it all away. His reason for living, everything he was, all of the greatness he could be. Captain Marvel didn't exist anymore. Superman didn't exist anymore. Nobody good seemed to exist anymore.

_Be Good, and Good Will Follow._

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><p>Wonder Woman had quite a good relationship with deities, if she did say so herself.<p>

Unlike most mortals, who blindly followed such fallacies as Faith and Hope, Diana was crafted from the clay of Prometheus himself, and bestowed the life of the Goddess's themselves. She had known her creators her whole life, and had known the folly of both men and Gods her entire existence. To her, magic and science were one in the same. The Afterlife was simply a new adventure. Death was just the process of moving on.

Life, no matter how difficult, no matter how strange...it was just the way it was. Diana knew how to play the Game of the Gods. She knew how to play with the hand she was dealt, and knew how to laugh, saying she preferred to fight instead. Compared to the others, who relied on their powers and technology, Diana was a master tactician.

(It made sense, of course, that she knew how to lead. She was the Princess of Themyscira, after all.)

Diana knew how the universe worked. She knew that time-travel was easily accessible. She knew the balance of darkness and light like the back of her own hand-and that Hades, the ruler of Darkness, was not evil at all-and that, if anything, Apollo, God of Light, was a much bigger jerk than Hades.

The Gods played a game of balance.

And yet, Diana, daughter of the Goddesses, preferred to protect humanity, rather than serve as a pawn. She was more powerful, more dignified than any of them. She was not a player-rather, she preferred to deal the cards, and whisper numbers in the others' ears.

Her very nature, the dichotomy of Godhood and Mortality, meant that she could feel it in her very core when it began to shift once more. Though, this time, it was different.

She would not be lying when she said she had well expected the Devil himself to stir. After all, when he had last searched for a pure soul, there were quite a few to be found. But now, with the Marvel family dispersed, and Superman dead, he would have to begin his hunt once more.

That, of course, was when the damned began to rise. When the blackouts began. When time began unstable, and when the candles began to appear once more.

Sighing, Diana polished her blade once more.

_It never ended, did it?_

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><p>"You understand, don't you?"<p>

"I understand that you're paranoid."

"I can see it in your face. You know."

Diana lent over the back of the chair, sighing as she rested her cheek against her palm.

"Aren't I the one with the Lasso of Truth?"

"Doesn't matter. I know anyway."

Diana shook her head, a small smile on her face as she raked a hand through her hair, and pressed herself further against the chair, peering over the man's shoulder, and at his computer screen.

"Are you upset that you can't explain it?"

"Does it matter?"

"For you, it does."

The typing briefly stopped, and Diana heard the distinct sound of Bruce grinding his jaw, before he continued once more.

"The universe melded into one."

Diana froze at that, and her eyebrows furrowed. "Not possible. There are over fifty-two worlds. I'd certainly notice if there were that many of you running around."

Bruce twitched, then spun in his chair, making Diana take a few steps back as he ripped off the cowl, steel-blue eyes locked onto hers.

"That's just it. We're not on one world. Time-space can't handle the kind of energy pooling from every universe into one. Everything is blurring. Physics, magic, everything. The blackouts. The dead coming back. Everything is collapsing into a singularity again."

Diana sighed, holding herself by her elbows. "Neron is causing this. Remember how Darkseid tried the same thing? Neron learned from his mistakes. He's not going for tricks this time. He's just going right for the core."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Marvel is gone. He's going for-"

"No, he's not. Bruce, he's going for children."

"You and I both know that-"

"No. Just stop." she cut him off, frankly losing her patience. "We just need to contact the others. The ones who know how to stop him."

"He's dead."

"It's about time-"

"No, I mean Flash's rogue. The one who stopped him. He's dead."

Diana sighed, and reached for her lasso.

"Then...I guess it's business as usual for us."

"Like old times."

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><p><strong>AN: **

I'd really appreciate criticism, if you have any to offer. Thank you.

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><p><em>"It's not called a boom-boom-boomerang for nothing, mate."<em>


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